His strength failed him, and a low sob quivered in his strong throat.
The horror of it, and the pity of it, conquered his fiery temper and broke down his bold spirit into utter weakness.
She was silent.
His sorrow did not touch her any more than his passion had ever done. She had no place in her thoughts left for him.
'And where is he?' muttered the sailor. 'Where is he, the white-livered coward, the false faithless wretch you loved? Where is he? May the curse———'
She sprang to her feet, and looked at him with the fire of other days in her eyes.
'Do not dare to speak of him. What is it to you? You are a stranger to me. Get you gone; get you gone.'
'But he has been false to you!'
'What is that to you? You are not my brother. You are a strange seaman of whom I know nothing, of whom I wish never to know aught. Go your way, and leave me to mine—whatever it be.'
Then, exhausted by the momentary violence, she sat down once more in the same attitude, leaning her head wearily against the wall of the cell. He could not see her face.
